“Yes, Miss Novak,” the waitress said, and grinned again, and immediately left the table before Nora could correct her.
Almost as soon as the waitress was gone, a young girl in a dark blue skirt and white blouse came to the table carrying a pen and a sheet of paper.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Could I have your autograph, Miss Novak?”
Nora looked at her and smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not Kim Novak.”
The little girl seemed puzzled. “You’re not?” she asked.
“No. I’m not.”
“Gee, you sure look like her,” the girl said.
“Yes, but I’m not.” Nora said. The girl continued to stare at her, and Nora realized all at once that the girl didn’t believe her. “Really,” she said, “I’d be happy to give you my autograph if I were Kim Novak. But I’m not.”
“Well,” the girl said, “thank you,” and she smiled weakly and went back to her table. At the table, Nora heard the girl say to her mother, “She wouldn’t give it to me.”
Nora frowned. When her grilled cheese sandwich came, she began eating it in silence.
“Will that be all, Miss Novak?” the waitress said.
“I’m not Kim Novak,” Nora said.
“You aren’t?” the waitress asked. Her voice managed to convey disbelief, disappointment, and scorn — all at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” Nora said. “I’m not.”
That afternoon, on the way to the subway, a boy pushing an empty dress rack stopped her and asked for her autograph. Nora told him she was sorry, she was not Kim Novak. On Thursday, in Penn Station, a girl with a valise chased her all the way to the street and then breathlessly told her she loved all of her pictures and could she please write To Louisa, With Warmest Wishes, and then sign it? Nora told the girl that she was sorry, she was not Kim Novak. On Friday, she ate lunch in a little Italian restaurant near Eighth Avenue, sitting alone at a table in the rear of the place. She was asked for her autograph five times during lunch. Each time she said she was sorry, she was not Kim Novak.
That night, when Marvin asked her where she wanted to go for dinner, she immediately said, “Sardi’s.”
“Why Sardi’s?”
“Why not? The food is very good there,” Nora answered.
“What?” he asked. “I’m sorry, Nora, I can’t hear you. You’re almost whispering.”
“I said the food is good there, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
She was very much aware of the stir she caused as she entered the restaurant. She saw the heads turning at all the tables, and she put her hand lightly on Marvin’s arm and whispered something about the pictures of the celebrities on the walls, and then smiled and stared smolderingly into the distance. At the bar on her right, she heard a man saying, “Look, honey, there’s Kim Novak.”
“We don’t have a reservation,” Marvin said to the head waiter.
The head waiter smiled genially. “That’s all right, sir,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do.”
He snapped his fingers, and they found a table for Marvin and Nora at the front of the restaurant, not too far from the entrance door.
“It’s very hard to get seated downstairs without a reservation,” Marvin said.
“Is it?” Nora asked.
“Yeah. This is a very good table.”
“We didn’t seem to have any trouble getting it.”
“No, we didn’t. That’s unusual.”
“Yes,” Nora said.
“Would you like to have a drink?” Marvin asked.
“No, thank you. Not now.”
“Would you mind if I had one?”
“Not at all.”
“Because, to tell you the truth, Nora, by the time Friday’s over, I really need a drink, believe me.”
“Go right ahead.”
Marvin ordered a double scotch on the rocks. The waiter took the order and then turned to Nora and smiled. “Nothing for you, Miss Novak?” he asked.
“Not right now, thank you,” Nora said, and the waiter smiled and left the table.
“What did he call you?” Marvin asked.
“Who?”
“The waiter. Did he call you ‘Miss Novak’?”
“I didn’t hear him,” Nora said.
“Boy, I’m sure he...”
“I didn’t hear him.”
When the waiter came back with Marvin’s scotch, he put the glass down and turned again to Nora. “Miss Novak,” he said, “are you sure you won’t have something? A little dry sherry perhaps?”
“Thank you, no,” Nora said in her quiet, breathy voice. The waiter smiled and left the table.
“He called you ‘Miss Novak’,” Marvin said.
“Did he?”
“Didn’t you hear him? He said it plain as day.”
“No, I didn’t hear him.”
“Well, how could you miss hearing him? He said, ‘Miss Novak, are you sure you won’t have something?’ Didn’t you hear him say that?”
“No, I...”
“Excuse me, Miss Novak.”
They both turned at the same time. The man standing beside the table was holding a Sardi’s menu in one hand and an open fountain pen in the other. He was a rather stout man, sweating a bit, beaming happily out of his round face.
“I hate to intrude this way,” he said. “My name is Roger Forbes, I’m from Oregon.” He paused self-consciously. “Eugene, Oregon.”
Marvin looked at the man in puzzlement and then turned to Nora, who was smiling patiently and sympathetically.
“I wonder...” the man said. “My daughter is a big fan of yours, Miss Novak. I wonder if...”
“You’re making a mis...” Marvin started.
“... you’d sign this menu for her?” the man said.
“I’d be happy to,” Nora answered.
Marvin’s eyes opened wide. Nora smiled at him, and then took the menu from the man.
“What’s your daughter’s name?” she asked.
“Marie.”
On the menu, Nora wrote To Marie, With Warmest Wishes, and then signed it Kim Novak.
“Thank you, Miss Novak,” the man said.
“Not at all,” she said, and smiled at him graciously as he left the table.
“Why did you do that?” Marvin whispered.
“It’s easier than denying it all the time,” she said.
“That’s against the law,” Marvin said, leaning over the table, whispering.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You are impersonating Kim Novak,” he whispered.
“I am not impersonating anyone. The man asked me for my autograph, and I gave it to him.”
“He asked for Kim Novak’s autograph, not yours.”
“It’s not my fault he made a mistake. I’m not going to go through the rest of my life saying I’m sorry I’m not Kim Novak.”
“But you’re not Kim Novak.”
“He thought I was.”
“How the hell does that change anything?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We haven’t had our dinner yet.”
“I don’t care.” She rose suddenly and began walking toward the door. At the entrance, the head waiter asked, “Is everything all right, Miss Novak?” and she said, “Yes, everything is fine,” and walked out onto the sidewalk. Two teenage boys walking past turned and smiled at her.
“Hi, Kim!” one of them shouted.
“Hey, Kim,” the other one called, “you want to go out with my friend?” and then they both burst out laughing and ran toward Broadway.
The doorman was grinning. “Taxi, Miss Novak?” he asked.